Page 78 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

A royal world.

I glance at Graham beside me as the private jet finishes its descent, his posture effortless but commanding, his expression unreadable. Even in the plane’s dim lighting, he looks every bit the prince I now know him to be—composed, steady, completely unshaken.

Meanwhile, I’m barely holding it together. My phone buzzes on my lap, and I could just already tell who’s checking in on me. Mia has been asking for details about this trip since we left Bardstown. I unlock my phone and check the message. I’m right, it is my sister. I smile as I read her text.

Just checking to see if you got there safely. I miss you very much. I’m proud of you and hope you have the time of your life with Graham and his family. By the way, can you tell Graham the threat still stands? Love you!

I quickly type a response to Mia:

We just landed, and I’m so nervous, but Graham has been really sweet. Did you actually threaten him?

I click send, and I turn off my phone with a smile on my face after reading her message. I then face Graham with a grin. “Did my sister threaten you?”

“We just had a friendly chat,” he responds.

I shake my head and laugh.I love my sister.

The pilot announces we can exit the plane soon, and my heart pounds as I clutch my bag. My nerves threaten to take over. “I feel like I should have read a rule book or something,” I mutter, shifting in my seat.

Graham smirks, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “There’s no rule book, Soph.”

I give him a look. “Oh, please. You’re literally a prince. There have to be rules.”

His thumb brushes over my skin in a soft, soothing motion. “Just be yourself.”

I exhale slowly, nodding, but my nerves kick into overdrive as the plane stops at the private terminal.

Because the moment we step out of this jet, everyone will know precisely who Graham is.

And, by extension, they’ll know who I am to him.

The second the jet’s door opens, the world outside changes.

The airport is nothing like I expected. There are no busy terminals and no hurried passengers. Instead, it’s quietly regal—polished marble floors, towering glass windows, and a private entrance where a formal welcoming committee awaits.

My breath catches as I take it all in.

Men in perfectly tailored uniforms stand in a neat formation, their expressions stoic, their gazes locked ahead. Beyond them, a convoy of sleek, black vehicles is lined up, engines running, their doors manned by drivers in crisp white gloves.

And in the center of it all, an official-looking figure steps forward, bowing slightly before speaking.

“Welcome home, Your Highness.”

I barely hold in my shock as I turn to Graham, who—unlike me—looks entirely at ease.

He nods in return, his voice steady. “It’s good to be back.”

And just like that, I see him fully in his true identity.

Gone is the man who kept his past hidden in Bardstown. In his place is Prince Graham Alexander of Alveria—collected, poised, every bit the royal he is.

And somehow, that makes my stomach flip even more.

I barely register the introductions as Graham speaks to the officials, answering questions with a measured authority that makes it clear—he was born for this, no matter how much he once tried to escape it.

Then, all eyes turn to me.

I suddenly feel too casual, too out of place, like I should have practiced a curtsy or something. But before I can even freak out properly, Graham reaches for my hand, pulling me closer.

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